The Flow
The Lady of the Pier
The Flow
by
Effrosyni Moschoudi
© 2015 Effrosyni Moschoudi. All rights reserved.
Effrosyni Moschoudi asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Cover design: © 2016 187Designz. All rights reserved.
This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or if it was not granted to you directly by the author for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons - living or dead - is entirely coincidental.
For my cousins Yiorgos, Christos, and Olga.
I miss you every day.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the author
A note from Effrosyni
Also available
Prologue
Laura awoke with a start. Beside her, Christian was sleeping. The rhythm of his breathing was peaceful like a child’s. Outside his bedroom window, the world was still shrouded in darkness. Behind the half-drawn curtains, the moon shone high up in the sky, surrounded by dark, rain-threatening clouds. The faint cawing of seagulls echoed from the distant seafront.
Laura took her eyes from the window to rest them on Christian’s face again. The faint moonlight fell upon his features like a soothing caress. She took in the unruly tufts of dark hair and the long eyelids that fluttered with the hint of a peaceful dream.
Smiling now, she felt relief wash over her. Christian was safe and so was she. They were together again; nothing else in the world mattered. She gave a deep sigh and brought a hand to her forehead. It was drenched in sweat. Although her breath came out less rushed now, her heartbeat still thudded in her ears. She had just awoken from a vivid nightmare. It had been about Charles.
In the dream, he loomed over her as she sat on a chair in an empty room, bound hand and foot. He had an arm on her shoulder holding her down. She remembered staring into his eyes, knowing he was about to harm her in some dreadful way. Yet, instead of being hostile or aggressive, he was being polite.
She saw his sickly smile, the one that had fooled her so many times into believing he was a decent human being. He was addressing her with terms of endearment, and yet, his fingertips were caressing the rope that tied her hands together, as if it were a precious golden chain he’d given her as a present.
In the dream, Laura tried to scream and call out for help, but she had no voice. And every time she tried, she heard Charles let out a mad, menacing laugh. They were alone in a tiny, claustrophobic room that chilled her blood. It consisted of four empty walls. No doors, no windows. A huge chandelier hung low overhead. It was a magnificent piece, but its sparkling crystals in the shape of stalactites filled her with dread. Laura kept looking up, for fear the deadly spikes might fall upon her. Their edges were sharp like daggers, their glint just as fearsome as the pearly whites in Charles’s irresistible smile.
Chapter 1
Brighton, autumn 1938
With a big splash, Christian dived off the Pier head, to the sound of applause from Laura and Maggie. It was a perfect wooden soldier dive – the one the girls loved the most, among the many that he knew how to perform.
He emerged from the foamy wash soon enough, jerking his head sideways and flashing the girls a smug smile, as he swept his long fringe back with a brush from his hand.
“Bravo!” cheered Maggie.
Laura blew him a kiss. “Well done, my darling!”
At that moment, their friends Meg and Paul rowed past in a hired dingy. They had recently returned from a brief honeymoon in Cornwall and had only a couple of days left to spend together before going back to work the following Monday. The summer weather was holding up even though it was already early September.
The newlyweds beckoned them eagerly. “Anyone want to join us?”
The girls declined with a shake of their heads. Christian, on the other hand, was quite keen. He got in the dingy and took over from Meg to row alongside Paul. Soon, the three of them were sailing away, smiling with laughing eyes above flushed cheeks.
Maggie whipped her head around and gave a deep sigh, then fixed her twinkling eyes on her best friend. “Oh Laura, you don’t know how happy I am that you and Christian are back together again.”
“I know,” Laura’s face grew dark at the terrible memories she still tried to shake. “It’s frightening how close I came to losing him forever,” she admitted with a shudder. “I can't believe how stupid I’ve been.”
“Come now, Laura; it wasn’t all your fault. He had a good part in the blame.”
“I think the whole affair was the result of our own weaknesses and misconceptions. And I believe we all know who took advantage of it all.”
Maggie bit her lip and shook her head. “What an awful, awful man . . .”
“I’m glad you don’t feel like naming him, any more than I do.”
“I can’t believe I urged you to go out with him. I’m so sorry, Laura.”
“Don’t be daft, Maggie. How were you to know? How was anyone to know how devious he is?”
“You would think an aristocrat would be the perfect gentleman. How shocking!”
“It’s not even worth talking about him any more. I only hope in time he will stop haunting my thoughts. I had the most awful nightmare about him last night.”
“Did you? What was it about?”
“Really, it was so frightening I dare not even put it in words.” Laura gave a frantic wave. “If anything, I’m trying to forget it.”
“Oh, never mind him. He can't bother you any more. Now you can enjoy your life with Christian again without a single worry.”
Laura raised a single brow. “You forget my mother.”
“She’ll soon get over it, don’t worry.”
“I don’t think so . . . It’s been a month since Christian and I got back together, but she still doesn’t seem to accept it. Even th
ough I’ve told her what Charles did to break me and Christian apart, she dismissed it all as the desperate attempts of a man who’s head over heels in love. She said ‘all’s fair in love and war’, would you believe it?”
Maggie chuckled. “Sounds like your mother, all right.”
“I don’t think she’ll leave me in peace anytime soon. She’s been having such high hopes about me marrying into peerage!”
“Laura, at the end of the day, you ought to live your own life, not your mother’s. Trust me, she’ll get over it sooner or later.”
Laura reached out and gave her friend a warm cuddle. “What would I do without you, Maggie? And I like what you said, that I have to live my life and not my mother’s. Believe me, I intend to.”
Chapter 2
Despite Laura’s happiness, her mother still found it hard to accept the new turn of events. Her dream to visit Lakeview Castle had gone up in smoke; not to mention her aspirations of seeing her daughter married to a nobleman. At first, Laura’s decision to go back to Christian had fuelled a series of terrible rows between mother and daughter. The tension that followed had mellowed into a state of tolerance for each other’s wants.
In time, Ruth was forced to accept her daughter’s choice but not without a great measure of bitterness. Laura on the other hand, chose to focus on her mother’s caring and gentle nature while ignoring her occasional bouts of sulking. Ruth’s poor health served as the perfect incentive to ignore her nasty remarks and not get into any more rows.
On several occasions, their fights caused Ruth to have terrible coughing fits. This made Laura feel remorseful and frightened. Her mother’s weak lungs were the reason she hadn’t moved into Christian’s place yet, despite the fact he asked her often. It was all she wanted too, but she just couldn’t allow herself to leave her mother behind, even though her trusted friend Maggie would still be in the house to keep an eye on her.
During the summer, Ruth’s health had shown signs of improvement, but by the end of September, the odd chill in the air had caused again a lot of worry concerning her health. As the blissful sunshine and pleasant sea breeze gave way to grey skies and chilly winds, the occasional asthma attack returned, serving as a perfect reminder that Ruth’s poor lungs would always be an issue. Furthermore, as the cold weather pressed on, she started to weaken, picking up every single virus that went around, which resulted in a sore throat, a head cold or an upset stomach.
Things worsened in early October when strong winds picked up from the sea. Persistent rain dampened the earth and the air, and Ruth started to experience violent bouts of coughing even after the smallest interval spent outside. Panicking, the girls forbade her to do any more gardening. For the first time, they had to buy all their vegetable supplies from the market. Of course, it was a small price to pay for the sake of Ruth’s safety, but alas, depriving her from her favourite pastime wasn’t enough. By mid-October, her health deteriorated even further, and one rainy evening Laura rushed her to Dr Barnett’s surgery beside herself with worry.
***
Ruth sat up with difficulty on the surgery bed while Dr Barnett listened to her lungs with the stethoscope. He gave a deep frown as he put the stethoscope down on his desk.
“It could be bronchitis, but it could also be—” Before he could finish his sentence, another hacking cough from Ruth interrupted him. She held a tattered handkerchief; her face was flushed red, glistening with a high fever. Looking at her, Laura felt lost. What am I going to do if this is serious?
“There, there, my dear . . . here! Have a couple of these now,” said the doctor, getting a box of tissues from the desk for his patient.
“Could it be something other than bronchitis?” asked Laura.
“It could be a number of other things, Miss Mayfield. I won't be able to tell with certainty until she’s had a skin test. I’ll also need a sputum sample.” The doctor placed a gentle hand on his patient’s shoulder.
“When can I do the test?” Ruth looked up with watery eyes. Her bottom lip quivered from the mere exertion of being upright instead of lying down, nice and warm, under the covers.
“Right now, my dear, in the adjacent room. Can you manage?” The doctor offered both hands to help her up. Ruth gave a feeble nod and got to her feet slowly with his assistance.
A few minutes later, Dr Barnett escorted the two women back to the same taxi that had been waiting outside to take them home.
The doctor returned to his office and picked up the telephone. He made his request to the operator and took a deep breath as he listened to the call signal.
“Hello? Could I speak to Lord Willard please?” he asked when a young girl picked up. “This is Dr Barnett.”
“Hello, Doctor! What a pleasant surprise to hear from you,” said Charles a few moments later. In the privacy of the estate’s grand library, he was able to express his pleasure fully, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. As he listened, he shot a glance at the full-length mirror. Once more, he relished the sense of authority and self-composure that his reflection radiated.
He straightened his tie with his free hand, the corners of his lips curling under his finely trimmed moustache. The time he’d been expecting for had finally come.
“Indeed, my lord,” said the doctor, “as you had forewarned me, Mrs Mayfield has just visited. She seems to be in a bad way. Her symptoms are quite serious, but I won't be able to diagnose with certainty until I’ve had the results from the skin test and the sputum sample.”
“How long?”
“Two to three days, my lord.”
“Make sure to keep me informed, and I will be true to my word and offer a generous donation towards the construction of the new hospital wing.”
“Of course, thank you very much indeed, my lord! But if I may, can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?” asked Charles examining his nails with a smug look on his face. Fancy keeping me on the telephone like this!
“You said you’d heard Mrs Mayfield was unwell lately, that I was to let you know if she were to visit me. I appreciate this, my lord, and I realise you’re genuinely interested in her welfare due to your friendship with Miss Mayfield but . . .”
“But what?” asked Charles, raising his voice.
“But . . . I wonder if I could ask for Mrs Mayfield’s permission before I let you know what the diagnosis is. You must realise I have a professional code of privacy to abide to as far as my patients are concerned.”
“You will do no such thing! I have told you I will see to it that she gets the best treatment available, paid out of my own pocket. As you know, I am willing to make a handsome donation for the hospital too, but I have been perfectly clear about this. I shall choose my own time to let them know I was the one paying the bill. Damn it, man! It’s a simple instruction! It should be easy to follow for a man of your stature and intelligence!”
“Yes, of course, Your Lordship, I do understand.” Dr Barnett swallowed hard.
“There’s a good doctor!” Charles’s tone of voice rang heavy with sarcasm. “Just make sure to keep me informed as soon as you have the diagnosis. Time is of the essence. Make sure of that, and as promised, you will be handsomely rewarded!” Charles slammed the phone down before Dr Barnett had the chance to agree.
The doctor placed the receiver down in its cradle and rubbed his chin, his eyes seeking the magnificent view of the park beyond the large window pane. It had been difficult for him to swallow his pride just then, to take the insult. But, he needed the donation badly. Times were difficult, and funding for local projects was hard to come by. Surely there was no harm in bending the rules a little, for the sake of having a new hospital wing. This would benefit a large number of patients for years to come.
As soon as he put the telephone down, Charles turned to a maid who was milling about dusting, and he ordered her to fetch Harold at once. His trusted valet appeared in a few seconds, a vision of elegance in his immaculate uniform. Groomed from head to toe, not a strand o
f his brilliantined hair out of place, his lank frame towering at six foot two inches, he was dashing and athletic.
“You asked for me, sir?”
“Yes, Harold. Dr Barnett just called. You’ll be pleased to know the information you’ve extracted from those silly girls you’ve befriended at the Society is quite accurate.”
“So this is why Miss Mayfield has been skipping classes lately. Has her mother’s health deteriorated further?”
“Indeed! The Doctor didn’t say what his assumptions were, but the symptoms are quite serious,” he replied rubbing his hands together.
Harold smirked. “There’s your long-awaited chance then, sir.”
“Finally, I will redeem myself in her eyes. Harold, there’s not a girl out there who’s ever resisted me. Not one! I’m not giving up until she’s mine.”
Harold gave a firm nod. He knew his master well enough to know the girl didn’t stand a chance in trying to resist him.
Chapter 3
Athens, December 1987
Sofia hopped off the bus just before one p.m. and walked two blocks home at a fast pace. She’d been in the dusty amphitheatres of her university since early morning with only a cheese pastry and a bottle of water for sustenance. Sofia knew her working mother had left some leftover pasticcio in the fridge for her, and she felt ravenous just thinking about it.
She rounded the last corner of the busy high street, turning into a quiet residential road, lined with wild orange trees and two-floor apartment buildings; a typical street in the overpopulated western Athens suburbia. She hopped up the three marble steps to her front door, and her heart leapt. The edge of a white envelope protruded from under the front door. The postman’s been!
Breathlessly, she rummaged through her backpack that contained heavy volumes of books on finance and accounting, cursing to herself when she couldn’t locate the keys fast enough. At last, she got hold of them and put the right key in the lock. As she opened the door, she glued her eyes to the floor and there it was: a letter addressed to her. It wasn’t one of those surprises that would send her pulse rising sky-high. This wasn’t from Danny. It was from Loula, a lovely surprise all the same. She hadn’t heard from her in a while. Loula was busy this winter and didn’t write as often as before. Nowadays, she didn’t spend her winters idle but took evening classes in a private school to learn English as fast as she could. That’s love for you. It had turned even Loula, who had never enjoyed school, into the most attentive, meticulous student ever.